


The Story

by livennadin



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Basically their story through Akaashi's eyes, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Developing Relationship, Falling In Love, First Meetings, Friendship, Getting Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Relationship Study, Slow Build, This starts from their first meeting, it's two am send help, send an owl, the title will make sense i promise, this is the fic i've been furiously writing on paper in the school library
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-04-25 14:57:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14381052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livennadin/pseuds/livennadin
Summary: He doesn’t think much of the boy called Bokuto Koutarou.But somewhere along the way, he grows the habit of doing so.*The story of two owls, from Akaashi's first year in high school through his dreamy days in university.





	The Story

Their first conversation hardly qualifies to be one with Akaashi giving one worded answers and Bokuto asking so forcefully as if he wants to just skip it and both ask and answer the questions himself.

Bokuto Koutarou, second year. He’s the vice captain and the ace of the team, just like he said when he’s introducing himself to the first years lined up a couple of meters away, Akaashi being one of them. They do the talking together with the captain. Bokuto’s gold – No that can’t be it. It must be the lightning – eyes skim the faces of his teammates to be. 

There is a relaxed grin on his face, kind of like an excited child that knows exactly which game to play with his friends. His grey hair is shaped like... something... surely - but to Akaashi it just looks like his upperclassman tried _three times from the scratch_ to style his hair but gave up on the fourth. 

The white jacket adorned with gold and black sits snugly on Bokuto and Akaashi suddenly feels the weight of the same jacket missing from his own shoulders. He had been confident that he will earn the volleyball club’s jacket and wear it with pride, after all, the previous third years left and the club needs people, but more students showed up for the try outs than he initially thought. Akaashi wonders if there are any others aiming for the same position he wants. The guy to his right finishes answering the captain’s questions – what was his name, which school did he come from, which position would he prefer, had he been playing volleyball before – and the captain turns his gaze to Akaashi, nods, trusting the first years to get the hang of the questions by now and to introduce themselves accordingly. 

Akaashi sucks in a breath and starts - what is his name, which school did he – only to be cut by the one and only ace as he quickly asks:

“What position? What position?”

Akaashi blinks and inhales at the same time, well, he was _just about to_ say that.

“Setter.” He hears himself reply. Bokuto’s smile widens for a second and then returns back to original. 

“Any serious past injuries?” 

That hasn’t been asked to any other first years. Then again, no one else stated they’d prefer to play as the setter. Maybe they need a substitude setter and hoped that one of the first years would want the position.

“No.” Akaashi answers.

“Good!” Bokuto suddenly yells. Akaashi suspects the captain is used to it at this point, given that he’s the only one that didn’t flinch. “So you can keep up!” The ace continues, shifting his weight from one leg to another.

“I do hope so.” Akaashi says clearly. Because Akaashi Keiji doesn’t mumble, never did. He quickly bows and takes one step back to his previous position because Bokuto is already looking at the boy standing on Akaashi’s left, waiting for his kind of replies to the same questions.

 

The practice is taken easy. First years are grouped up with second and third years where they play 3 on 3 matches without a hurry, just trying to grasp each other’s styles. It’s also a relaxed chance for some chit chat and to make aquantices. Captain encourages them to speak so that becoming a team will be faster. Then they pair up with whoever was standing closest and receive and pass the ball. There is one more first year that wants to be a setter so him and Akaashi do overhand passes with the third year setter for a while before they are placed on either sides of the net. “Just try to get it high somewhere between the net and the spiker.” The third year setter says. “It’s only the first ever practice. So it’s okay.”

The second and third years start to make more noise – compliments, light hearted teases, complaints about certain lessons they’re sharing, laughter – after some point. No one expects neither Akaashi’s or the other first year’s tosses to be accurate yet and they don’t make any comments. Except Bokuto Koutarou, that is. He laughs heartily after the ball ends up only near his shoulder when he jumps. He grabs the ball, lands down, grins at Akaashi.

“Higher next time?” He says, voice full of energy somehow.

Akaashi nods.

“Higher next time.” He affirms.

 

Bokuto jogs up to him after the practice. 

“Do you live close? To school, I mean?” He sounds causal, rather, he tries really hard to sound casual, Akaashi notices. But it’s hard to be casual and try really hard at the same time.

“Yes.” He lets his eyes stay a bit longer than necessary on the ace’s face.

“So you can stay after practice? Not now, though. Like. In general. After practices in the future.” Bokuto nods like that will make Akaashi nod and confirm that he can stay, like, in general, after practices in the future.

“I can.” Akaashi catches himself nodding. “It wouldn’t be a problem.” 

Bokuto grins.

“Awesome! See you ‘round Akaashi!” He says as he walks backwards to the gym doors, followed closely by, what was the name, Konoha? 

“See you later, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi calls back and returns his attention to the traitor strap of his gym back _which refuses to work with him for a fricking reason._

He doesn’t think much of the boy called Bokuto Koutarou.

But somewhere along the way, he grows the habit of doing so.

 

Somewhere along the way, he gets that jacket he wanted, the last one in his size even. Somewhere along the way, he starts dragging himself to bed with sore muscles from the afternoon practice, all the while looking forward to the next morning practice. 

Somewhere along the way, some of the first years that lined up in front of the captain and the vice captain with him become teammates. Some don’t, because they leave the club in result of personal or academic problems. Few discover that volleyball isn’t the sport for them and sign up to different clubs. “How could they?” Bokuto wails as they watch two first years they used to practice with enter the gym the basketball club uses. “There there, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi pats his shoulder twice in a mock-comforting gesture. Somewhere along the way, the relationship between Akaashi and Bokuto becomes playful.

 

“Bokuto-san.” He drags a long, much needed breath in. They are the only ones left in the gym. They are both drenched in sweat. There are so many volleyballs scattered around across the net. “Let’s call it a day. I’m exhausted.” Akaashi closes his tired eyes and swipes some sweat off his forehead.

“Oho?” Bokuto wheezes out a breath. Akaashi isn’t sure what his vice captain actually wanted to do. Laugh maybe? “I could go on, you know.” He says as he gives up cluthing his kneepads while being doubled over and straightens. 

“I’m not tired at all!” He delivers with a confident face and leans on the net like a cool guy would lean on a wall after reciting a perfect one liner. But because it is a net instead of a wall, it bends and moves like a net would and Bokuto ends up on floor.

Akaashi blinks once, twice and starts laughing even though his lungs protest. Bokuto, bless him, has the energy to bark out one of his happy laughs. But not before looking like he’s deeply offended at gravity. 

They laugh so much that day. The empty gym echoes their laughter back to them as if saying, _Listen, listen, this is what’s coming. There’s more of this for you two._

They eventually get up from the shiny wooden floor they have been rolling and clutching their stomachs on. Bokuto challenges Akaashi to a race of _who can mop one side of the court faster,_ Akaashi wins.

“But you cheated!” Bokuto throws both his hands to the sky when they finally, _finally_ managed to clean and lock up the gym. Akaashi throws the ace a glance. He may or may not have knocked the older boy down with his mop when he was about to finish that one last corner before Akaashi. That’s a skill you earn when you grow up with siblings.

 

“It’s not cheating if no one saw it.” He replies calmly.

Bokuto sputters. “But I did! _I_ was the one who got knocked down to the ground by you!” He stops on his tracks to accusingly glare at the sub setter of Fukurodani. 

The cheap and lazy yellow light of the street lamp shines down on him. It’s a winter evening and Tokyo has been painted white with glistering snow for the past few days. Bokuto’s beanie forces his ever rebellious hair down onto his forehead where only the half of his silver locks peak out from under the headwear. Snowflakes so tiny and light as if the world is some giant’s dinner and they are sprinkling down salt on it falls around them. It is very difficult for Akaashi to decide if it’s the scenery that makes Bokuto so beautiful or is the scenery beautiful to him because Bokuto happens to be a part of it.

“You can’t prove anything.” He says with a straight face and a mock teary voice before he starts running. Because approximately a month ago they’ve discoreved that they share a similiar, somewhat absurd and impossible to explain sense of humour and they’ve been cherishing it since.

Akaashi hears Bokuto’s blossoming laughter alongside the telltale sound of footsteps as he runs. Bokuto catches up quickly and throws one arm around Akaashi in a very disheartened headlock. Akaashi giggles as Bokuto now completes the scenery with his sincere laughter. _So that was what’s missing._

 

Somewhere along the way Bokuto Koutarou’s laughter becomes necessary for Akaashi.

 

Somewhere along the way, Akaashi catches himself almost uttering the words out loud. 

_How_ he has no idea. How it is that the team doesn’t get why Bokuto’s mood wavers so much is beyond Akaashi because he can clearly see it. It’s because Bokuto Koutarou is so loving. Sure, he’s no saint. He is sometimes so stubborn that Akaashi wonders which goat’s soul did he steal and equipped instead of his own overnight. He gets distracted and angry. He has downs – just like everybody else. He’s human. But the main motive that fuels the ace is love. 

He loves his friends so dearly – that’s why he deflates when they happen to be busy on the day he’s asking to spend with them. He gets so nervous before tests – because he loves his parents so much that he truly wants to make them proud but he seriously lacks the ability to focus easily. He sulks when his spike gets blocked – he _loves_ the sport so much. He loves and respects his teammates so that he always wants to give them back their hard work with points he scores as the ace and the vice captain. And when he can’t, he gets sad. Bokuto is “a handful” as some put it because he feels and loves so much that Akaashi thinks he couldn’t contain it in his body even if the older boy tried. 

Bokuto truly loves life and wants to pay back for the things he got out of it by doing what he does perfect. Not that life has been extraordinarily kind to him – still, he cherishes every single thing he has or earned.

But he lacks or rather, Akaashi thinks, chooses not to acknowledge that he can’t always put a fantastic play, can’t always have afternoons full of laughter at the ice cream parlor near the school with the team, can’t always be his best self to inspire others.

 

Somewhere along the way Akaashi Keiji becomes the one that gets Bokuto the most in the team.

 

Somewhere along the way, Akaashi finally gets a face and a body to the name Kuroo that he hears quite a lot. The boy is older than Akaashi and taller than both Akaashi and Bokuto. With hair as independent as Bokuto’s he soon proves that he can also get as energetic as Bokuto. He introduces a much more calmer and shorter person to Akaashi after a while, Kenma, he says, he is my childhood friend. Kenma soon proves that the calm Akaashi thought he possesses is not entirely the case. But they all get along, hang out outside as much as they can. Still, somewhere along the way, Kuroo earns the name pain-in-the-ass-Kuroo-san from Akaashi.

 

Somewhere along the way, Bokuto steps in yet another aspect of Akaashi’s life after being a teammate. He becomes a friend. Akaashi is not sure that if there is one single moment he can point out and claim _Look, Bokuto-san! This is when we became friends!_ but he gets it surely that time he invited Bokuto over to study together without having the need to think twice about it. He can say, confidently, that they are friends when Bokuto so easily carried an extra chair to Akaashi’s room and settled it next to his desk like he had done it million times before. He can confirm that they are friends when Bokuto so casually suggests that Akaashi should stay for dinner when visiting is the other way around like him staying longer was the only possible option anyways.

 

“I _love_ these kind of weather.” Bokuto states one day as they are returning from a celebratory cafe meet up with Kuroo and Kenma. Finally, both Nekoma and Fukurodani are done with the exams students were rushing through and they decided, why not go grab something sweet for this one time?

Since Bokuto is not allowed to drink coffee, his normal energy levels _and_ caffeine? God forbid, he allows himself to indulge and gets a mocha for this once. “I’m surprised you didn’t fail anything this time.” Kuroo says, earning a flick to his forehead. Kenma, just like Bokuto, isn’t supposed to drink coffee although his reason is different and he, unlike Bokuto, doesn’t overstep that rule for this one time. He just shoves the empty plate that was carrying a large slice of apple pie just minutes ago away from him and speaks in that small voice of his: “A movie I’ve been waiting for comes out friday. Are you guys free?”

 

And that’s how they end up returning home with full stomaches and promises for friday.

It’s nearly summer and the weather, as Bokuto commented on, is nice. It’s warm. Not that hot that you’d want to take off your jacket, not that cold that you’d wish you got something warmer than your jacket and it carries fallen flower petals every once in a while with a mischievous wind.

“It’s nice.” Akaashi hums. “Though I think I love autumn more.”

“Really?” Bokuto raises one eyebrow but lowers his head. “I thought you’d love winter the best.” 

Akaashi turns his head and fixes his gaze on the empty, serene street in front of them. Bokuto and him made it their goal to always try different routes and discover new places when they’re walking together. Akaashi mentally notes this street to come back to it. It’s like forgotten but also lived in. The pinks and lilacs of the sky mellows out the browns and yellows of the houses on the street. The buildings are short – shorter than usual – they have four stories most. The walls are dirtied with years of rain and whatnot. Still, two stray cats walk around like it’s their spectacular, one of a kind kingdom.

“Why did you think so?” Akaashi asks, eyes still not on the other.

“Dunno.” Bokuto clicks his tongue. He only does it after spending time with Kuroo because it’s a habit of the middle blocker’s that Bokuto seems to pick up on and then forget. “Just, I can picture you reading inside, all cozy, when it’s snowing outside.” He shrugs as his gold eyes– Akaashi gave up a long time ago. Yes. They are gold, he admits. – wait for greenish blue ones to meet them. 

Akaashi chuckles ever so slightly. “Thank you?” He tries, voice light. 

Bokuto stucks out his tongue at him for some seconds and turns away to gaze at the street as Akaashi laughs quietly.

“I’ve always kinda envied book characters, you know?” Bokuto starts once again. It’s times like these that Bokuto Koutarou calms down to this honest, sincere self he has inside. It’s times like these he exposes his unique way of processing the world, with no motive of being someone other’s personal morale lifter. It’s times like these Akaashi wants to stretch until an eternity and then a couple more.

“You did?” Akaashi asks, letting his voice show his surprise.

Bokuto nods. “It’s just-“ He sighs, a sound between content and tired, timeless. Just like the street they’re walking on. “They’re always _special_ you know? Whatever they do, they’re special, they mean _something._ They have this _importance_ to them.” One would expect him to gesture wildly after hearing his words but the older boy is just leisurely walking. 

Akaashi slows down his steps in hopes that time would also catch up to his intent and slow down a bit. 

Bokuto dugs his hands into his pockets with a little bit more than necessary force and drags his jacket down slightly.

“You just know how a character looks like from the outside. You know what kind of person they seem to be and what kind of person they really are. You know what they mean to the other characters.” He hadn’t slowed down like the younger boy, so he’s couple of steps ahead as he goes on. “You know where they stand in other people’s lives. I can’t ever find where I belong – where I stand, how am I doing, if I am doing enough – It’s like... I can’t _sense_ myself. I can’t ever figure out myself, I have no idea what kind of person I am and I’m sure I’m not that interesting to make a character out of.” Bokuto chuckles, it’s rather bittersweet but also strangely calm. 

“But,” He says and turns around on his heels to look at Akaashi who is trailing behind. “That just takes an author, I guess.” He smiles, warm as the trailing sun behind him, coloring the entire sky in soulful gradients. “I think we would make great characters – ones that you _feel with,_ ones that are loved – if only an author would describe us. Because – oh wow I’m rambling – we _are_ interesting and great. We just need to let people in so that they can see that too.”

Akaashi stops with a dragged step that makes a too loud noise in the stillness of the moment. Bokuto usually speaks a lot and you need to actually listen to get the point – that’s just how he is but Akaashi feels happy that he was here to listen to this speech. He feels happy that he’s the one this speech was given specifically to. He knew Bokuto loved books, knew that when he can focus he reads until his attention span fails him. Which happens kinda fast so that he sticks to shows with short episodes. Akaashi knew all that. But he did never think that Bokuto would work out self love from his love for characters.

“Go on,” Bokuto grins. “Say it.”

“Say what?” Akaashi feels his lips pulling into a dopey grin too.

Bokuto is watching him. He has an old, somewhat pale, green, long jacket on him. Says it was his mother’s who unabashedly loves oversized clothing. His hair is pliant against the wind so the wind gifts it with the flower petals it sticks on silver locks. He is breathtaking. For Akaashi, at least.

“Say that you’re surprised. That I don’t look like someone who thinks that much.” There is a glint in those gold eyes that Akaashi can’t quite name. “I hear it a lot.”

Akaashi breathes in, the cats from the earlier are fighting somewhere, he can hear the hisses. He breathes out, a car just passed from the street one below this.

“That would be rude.” He decides to say, even though he at some point thought something alike.

“Maybe.” Bokuto yawns as he starts walking again. “But maybe it would be true.” He mumbles.

“So what?” Akaashi catches up with him in three long strides. “It doesn’t change the fact that you, in fact, do think that much.” 

Bokuto catches his eyes in a side glance he throws and laughs happily. “Guess you’re right.”

 

They walk in comfortable silence where they allow the city to do the talking in it’s own way. They hear cars, they hear dogs, they hear the chatter of a group of girls passing by. The sky turns darker eventually like someone is patiently adding navy blue ink to the scenery drop by drop. Akaashi kind of knew that Bokuto Koutarou was one of a kind, he knew he was hard to grasp and even harder to avert your attention from but somehow, he always finds himself surprised and enamored by the boy. 

“Akaashi.” Bokuto says while bumping his shoulder into Akaashi’s when they were nearly at his door, the motion familiar and easy by now.

Akaashi humms for him to continue.

“Would I be wrong if I thought you’re slowly letting me in?” He asks carefully. Logically, Akaashi knew the words were, at their best, air but somehow Bokuto’s words feel like they have some kind of heaviness.

He lets the smile demanding to curl his lips into shape do whatever it wants as he stops once again and looks into his vice captain’s eyes.

“No, Bokuto-san, you wouldn’t be wrong at all.” Bokuto, who had copied him and stopped, grins. 

“Are we-“ Akaashi spares a glance to his house, not quite wanting to return, not quite wanting to stay. “Are we a story?” 

 

He thought about it after Bokuto spoke about characters. If they were characters, surely there would be a plot, a story enveloping them. He found that he really wouldn’t mind starring in Bokuto’s own story if that meant the boy he grew so fond of would stay in his.

“Well, it depends. Is anyone going to tell our story?” Bokuto answers after few heartbeats. He shies his gaze away for a while, bouncing slightly on his toes. He looks older than Akaashi first saw him. Or maybe it’s that now he has a more prominent space in Akaashi’s life that he actually pays mind to the time they spend together, highlighting it, keeping it. 

 

“You are one, though.” Bokuto says finally. “A story. I don’t think I could ever forget you, so I would keep on telling your story.” 

Akaashi hears and feels himself take a sharp breath in. He coughs once or twice at the honesty. But Bokuto has been nothing if he wasn’t honest. The ace smiles sheepeshly, eyes alight like two copies of the one moon hanging above his head, round and yellow.

“Was that too much? Do you need me to recite your favorite vines until you calm down?” He laughs a bit. He laughs more when Akaashi shots him a look, trying to fight down his own laughter.

“Shut up,” He says without any convenience at all. These moments they had are all so serene, _too still_ for them. It feels like Akaashi is learning more about Bokuto and vice versa but it also feels out of place, somehow, probably because it’s new.

“But we are.” Akaashi takes a long, long breath of the spring weather in as if he isn’t the one with allergies. Bokuto hums as if telling him to continue. “We are stories.” Akaashi says without looking at him as he finally walks towards his home. “I’ll make sure of it, I’ll tell us.” He says clearly, because even though how big the statement he is making is, Akaashi Keiji doesn’t mumble, never did. “Thank you for walking me home, Bokuto-san, have a good evening.” He goes on, this time looking over his shoulder at the boy waiting for him to get inside. Bokuto always makes sure the person he’s seeing off makes it into the building.

The vice captain has a grin that could pass as sunlight and his hood on. He replies:

“Bring me some food tomorrow for the practice and actually sleep Akaashi!”

Akaashi snorts. He sacrified sleep for his tests this week and the skin under his eyes sunk down as is he’s taking and giving the sleep off as if it’s something physical from under the skin there. 

He knows that Bokuto doesn’t actually need someone to pack food for him, with an appetite like that he had learned how to take care of his own hunger and did a great job at it. He’s the one who forgets or simply passes the breakfast sometimes. Bokuto asks food from him because everyone on the team knew how responsible Akaashi Keiji is from day one. If it’s duty, there is no way Akaashi is forgetting it. So Bokuto makes breakfast a duty and asks Akaashi to make some for him too so that the regular-setter-to-be remembers that he needs one too. Because Akaashi is the type of guy who could forget himself but never others.

Akaashi smiles even after they wave goodbye – only to wave good morning tomorrow – and closes the door. He hopes that their story ends well – or rather – he hopes it never ends.

 

Somewhere along the way, they become a story. Well, actually, little stories. Sometimes people talk about how well the new setter – he is only a first year even! – and the ace played. They gush about that final point Akaashi tossed and Bokuto spiked. They mention their classmates how they saw the two of them jogging out now that the weather was nice enough for the sport clubs to do so.

People grow aware of them as their plays together grows more precise, more effective.

 

Somewhere along the way, Bokuto gives up.

It’s actually in summer break where the whole team is hanging out together, he says, word by word:

“I’m done with it! It’s too much work to bleach and dye and bleach and dye and blea- you get the point. I’m gonna let the roots grow.”

“Nooo!” Konoha and Yukie whine at the same time. They were the ones suggested Bokuto to try silver last summer break, Akaashi learns later. 

“Yess!” Onaga and Komi hiss as if they were waiting for this moment for decades.

 

Bokuto indeed, does let the roots grow and starts gelling up his now black and white hair.

 

They spend the summer together. They don’t have that much money, so they usually head to parks and just wander around the city, but one time they hop on the train, get off on a stop they didn’t even know existed and just get lost there. They also had dinner together that day so that was a bit pricey. Still, summer rolls away as easily as the word for it rolls off the tongue.

 

Somewhere along the way, his name earns even more letters.

“AAKAAAASHIIE!” Bokuto calls for him - no, for the whole corridor of second years to hear once the school starts.

Akaashi is seemingly the only name their opponents remember because Bokuto is calling the name boisterously.

Oh, speaking of names, somewhere along the way Akaashi earns a “vice captain” before his name.

Bokuto and him listen to the first years as they introduce themselves – just like how Bokuto and his captain did listen to Akaashi once.

Bokuto makes jokes and noises, easing the first years off their nerves and breaking the ice quickly. Everyone listens when he speaks. Not that Akaashi had any doubts but, it’s nice to see that the new captain, _his captain_ is doing well.

 

Somewhere along the way, they integrate their lives even further, falling into a routine. But a routine isn’t the only thing Akaashi is falling in.

They have a groupchat consisting of two cats and two owls. They arrange meetings, they complain and compliment – just like what Kuroo and Bokuto are doing at the moment:

 **p.i.t.a.kuroo-san:** i love you i say

 **p.i.t.a.kuroo-san:** only it comes out as

 **p.i.t.a.kuroo-san:** 43 iconic vines in one minute (music video)

 

Akaashi reads the notifications as they pop up silently on his phone.

 

 **bokuto-san:** i lov yu too i say

 **bokuto-san:** onyl it comes outt as

 **bokuto-san:** elephant seal rolls down hill

 

Bokuto texts in his trademark way, full of typos. Akaashi unlocks his phone to join the chat, he remembers the video Bokuto mentioned. They’ve watched it together at lunch break.

 

 **kenma-san:** you two are weird, i say.

 **kenma-san:** it comes out exactly as i want it to be.

 

For some reason, Kenma cares about punctuation but he never uses caps lock. The chat erupts into nonsense texts of Kuroo accusing Kenma of being jealous and Bokuto expressing his feelings in emojis. Then Kenma texts again.

 

 **kenma-san:** anyways. look at him.

**kenma-san: image**

 

He sends a screenshot of a character which Kuroo immediately replies with the name of. Akaashi is about to ask who his barber is, he just wants to talk, Bokuto sends a string of texts.

 

 **bokuto-san:** i wuold

 **bokuto-san:** bbut im straight as a ruler

**bokuto-san: image**

 

He sends a commercial image of those plastic, colorful rulers that can bend, that are not straight at all.

Akaashi acts like he did’t throw his phone away and squeal.

A routine isn’t all he’s falling in, Akaashi finds out. He’s also falling in _love._

 

Somewhere along the way, their team gets even stronger. Akaashi can see how fast his teammates are improving even on a day to day basis and it puts a smile on his face.

They face every opponent with pride and confidence. The cheers get clearer: Get this point for us.

Bokuto gets asked by several adults what he’s planning for the future and gets dissapproving looks when he answers _i don’t know_ as if he could get it all sorted out by the age of eighteen. Akaashi wants them to give him a break, he is already doing his best, but he knows not to talk back, especially when it doesn’t include him in any way, so he fiddles with his fingers. It’s a habit of his, has been for years now. He sometimes pulls and scratches at the skin there until it reddens or breaks and bleeds. Sometimes he relaxes before he has to do that.

 

Bokuto’s shoulders stand a little less tall, a bit more sunken as days go by in his number four jersey. The cheers turn into bittersweet statements: Let’s get this point for him.

Because their captain’s days as a high schooler is nearing to their end and the knowledge of it hovers above them in the gym. Bokuto seems to catch up too, he stretches and cherishes the moments he has with his team. He has that look in his eyes. It’s causing Akaashi’s stomach to churn.

Eventually, the team starts talking about universities – the third years start it because it _is_ an important thing in their lives. Still, the corners of Akaashi’s fingers turn red and bruised.

Bokuto laughs loud and merrily when they ask what he wants from future.

“I guess I want to keep on playing volleyball. But I also want a back up plan – you know? Like, like a cool, intelligent person would have – because I am also cool and intelligent! I _am_ the ace, after all! I think I’m gonna strive for a degree and a place in one of the teams in the league. We’ll see!” He blabbers. The one who asked the questions looks lost. He probably couldn’t keep up after the first half of the answer. Akaashi does though and he notices the quiet, longing breath Bokuto sucks in.

“But, I guess... I wish I could play more with all of you guys.” He says. The very air above them feels like a burden, a silence like a breath is being collectively held looms over them. Finally, the whole team smiles at him. It’s not everyday Bokuto gets emotional this openly. Akaashi just blinks and looks down at the ground. A Fukurodani Volleyball Team without Bokuto Koutarou doesn’t seem possible to him. He always felt like Bokuto would be there.

Somewhere along the way, after they defeat Nekoma in a match, he understands that he must face a volleyball club without his ace.

 

They get ice cream after the match. They are rivals on the court, but off court, they are closer than any of them originally thought they would be. The ice cream parlor is really close to Kenma’s house so they end up bee-lining to the teen’s messy room, all of them exhausted. There is a worn down ukulele laying on Kenma’s bed and Bokuto asks about it until Kenma gives in. He plays them a single chorous, obviously missing two notes as he does so. “Ta-da.” He says in a monotone voice. All of them laugh before Kuroo starts clapping, Bokuto following close behind. He belts out a “I’m so proud of you!” as Kuroo pretends to wipe his non-existent tears. Akaashi whistles. “Such talent. You’re going to make _even me_ cry.” He says. There is a smile on Kenma’s face as he shrugs and informs them that maybe he’ll pick up practicing it again.

 

Somewhere along the way, Bokuto Koutarou graduates alongside his generation. His mother cries – indeed in oversized clothes – his dad looks torn between smiling at his son and fending to his wife who’s now actually sobbing. “I never thought I see the day!” 

“Mom, what does that mean? You thought I couldn’t graduate?!” 

They hug both Bokuto and Akaashi. It feels so right.

 

Somewhere along the line, time slips away from Akaashi’s hands. Sharply, Akaashi realizes one day when he’s staring at the flames of their clean stove, that he’s being selfish. He had two _great_ years with Bokuto. It should be enough, plus, there is more to come. It’s not like someone’s dying or moving to a country overseas or anything.

He puts out the fire when the boiled water huffs and puffs at him with its stream and makes himself a cup of tea. 

 

Fire is, after all, just fire. It’s not necessarily welcoming and warm or torturous and scorching. Fire just burns where it is. It’s just a matter of how close you choose to stand: If you get trail too far away, you’ll freeze. If you get too close, you’ll burn.

Akaashi thinks that Bokuto is a lot of things. He’s the relaxed snowfall from the winter evenings they’ve walked back home together, late after practice. He’s the expressive air that hangs on the streets they’ve roamed as pink dusks ticked away. He’s the gold on his uniform and sweat on his skin – both glittering under afternoon suns. He’s the bento boxes from various lunches they’ve shared, familiar and easy, always there even if Akaashi forgets to pack his. He’s the slow mornings where sleep is somewhere in the back of their minds as they run laps after laps in morning practices.

Bokuto, Akaashi realizes, is so many things for him.

Bokuto, Akaashi comes to a realization once again, is and has been for a while, his fire. Somewhere along the way, he concludes that he’s already stepped too close.

And now Bokuto is the one leaving for university in a week.

 

“I don’t think I need this many t-shirts, the dorms don’t have that much storage anyways.” Bokuto rips Akaashi back into the present with his voice. He is sitting among a pile of crumbled clothes on the ground. He looks at the two owl printed shirts he has with a frown.

One says “owl you need is love” in a simple font and has an owl illustration on its pocket. Akaashi has one of the same shirt too, one size smaller smaller, that is. They’re a pair. Bokuto tosses the other shirt back into the pile and folds the one with the pun to put it into the suitcase. So he chooses the one he bought with Akaashi from that somehow _always_ unnecessarily crowded store as matching pairs. Akaashi smiles a bit at that.

“But will you be able to do laundry often? You may need extra shirts.” He shrugs. He is helping Bokuto pack. His current job is to sort out the half read novels that were messily packed under the ace’s desk. Because Bokuto moving out to a dorm is also a chance to tidy his room thoroughly. “I trust your taste, just pick one or two for me. You can borrow from the rest all you want.” Bokuto said before they’ve started. Now he shrugs with a smirk as he answers:

“I can always steal from Kuroo.”

“Right.” Akaashi snorts and rolls his eyes. Kuroo and Bokuto will be roommates in one of the many rooms of the one and only University of Tokyo. So Akaashi and Kenma are naturally worried for their wellbeing, just like they always are whenever the two of them are left alone.

Akaashi directs his gaze back to the books on his lap as Bokuto starts humming a commercial jingle. He takes Murakami’s Sputnik Sweetheart and places it carefully in the open suitcase. He’s already read the book and he really, _really_ wants to sit down with Bokuto in a cozy cafe they’ve just discovered and talk about what he thought of it when he also finishes the book. He puts aside a novel he’s been meaning to read but hadn’t had the chance to, taking up on Bokuto’s offer that he can borrow. He skims through a thin poetry book before deeming it a light enough read for Bokuto. He places the poetry book in the suitcase too.

He thinks that maybe, he is also putting his heart in the suitcase, packing it with Bokuto’s belongings so he’ll take it with him. Because honestly, for a long time the black and silver haired boy owned the heart. It’s only natural that he’ll take it with him when he leaves.

It’s not like he’s going too far away. A train ride and maybe a two-stops-long bus ride can easily bring him back home at any given day. But he’ll have last minute assingments he’ll rush to submit, he’ll have morning classes that’ll push him to sleep early, he’ll have lecturers stubbornly teaching even after the given time for the lecture is over. He’ll have practices. He’ll have a team – no, he already has a team, it’s Fukurodani. He’ll have _another_ team. _Another setter._ In other words, he’ll have a different life. And, in all honesty, Akaashi is so proud and happy. He really is. It’s just... he’s terrified of being left behind, being forgotten. After all, just like Kenma sighed heavily that time when Akaashi and him were waiting for Bokuto and Kuroo on a windy but warm evening: It hurts the ones who stay the most.

He wants Bokuto to be happy. He knows Bokuto has and will have a life of his own. Akaashi just wants to stay a part of Bokuto’s world.

“Akaashi?” Bokuto asks softly, surprise evident in both his voice and on his face. “Why are you crying?”

He’s crying? He hadn’t noticed. He takes a shaky breath in. He has been missing Bokuto since the acceptance letter arrived. He’s been missing his ace even before he left.

Bokuto gets up from where he was sitting and plops down next to Akaashi, leaning close and putting one arm over his shoulder. “Hey, hey, hey,” He whispers. “What’s wrong?”

Akaashi’s tears pick up pace after that.

“The story.” He chokes out after half a minute. He raises his head and meets Bokuto’s gaze. “Where is the story heading? Am I still a part of it?”

Bokuto blinks with his dry eyes, Akaashi blinks tears away from his glossy ones.

“Of course you are!” Bokuto sounds offended at the question. That digs out a huff of an almost laugh from Akaashi. “What kind of question- You are the main character!” Akaashi laughs then, a wet, scratchy laugh.

“I am?” He parrots back.

Bokuto impatiently tap tap taps on Akaashi’s shoulder in the half hug they’re sharing.

“You promised, Akaashi Keiji.” He says seriously but with a hint of smile. Full name, all syllables. He must mean what he says then. “You’re not giving up on this story.” He says but Akaashi hears what he’s actually saying. _You’re not giving up on us. I’m not either. Don’t you dare._

Because Akaashi heard those three words from Bokuto Koutarou before. “Don’t you dare!” The captain had yelled on the court, just when Akaashi was admitting defeat because his logic and sense of realism told him so. They ended up winning that match. “Don’t you dare.” Bokuto had murmured dangerously when Akaashi insisted he could still play with that shaking hand and swollen thumb of his. “Don’t you dare.” Bokuto had warned the first time he saw Akaashi cry. He had had enough: His mind had felt like someone grabbed a pitch black marker and scratched away until all there’s left was static. “Don’t you dare. You deserve to be here.” Bokuto had whispered as Akaashi cried into his shoulder, yanking him back from the cliff of ever growing self doubt and possibilities his thought presented that always end up wrong, wrong, wrong.

But, Akaashi thinks, he would also very much like to hear another set of three words from Bokuto Koutarou.

“I love you.” He says. “As in, more than a friends.” Clear and loud. Because Akaashi Keiji doesn’t mumble. Never did. Bokuto gasps, tenses next to him and in the next instant, relaxes with a breathy laugh. He has that stupid ace t-shirt he got from the store in the Metropolitan Gymnasium on. Akaashi curls his fingers into the t-shirt and blinks owlishly as his heart hammers in his suddenly too tight rib cage.

“I love you too.” Bokuto answers. He places a warm hand on Akaashi’s cheek that has been watered with couple of tears and then moulded with smiles in just the past minute. His touch is gentle, as it always is when it’s Akaashi. He looks at Akaashi with that same glint in his eyes that the setter always saw but never could name – up until now. “As in, more than a friend.” He adds.

Akaashi finally gets what that look in his eyes mean: love, adoration, fondness.

Somewhere along the way, that looks starts burning brighter in both gold and greenish blue eyes.

 

They cuddle as much as they can that week.

 

They share their first kiss on the street they first talked about characters and stories.

“You taste like coffee.” Bokuto murmurs after the first meeting of their lips. They went to a coffee shop date after making sure that Bokuto was packed and all ready. He was going to leave early for the train tomorrow. 

“Yeah, no shit, honey.” Akaashi says as he chases and catches the lips he had dreamt of for a while now. Bokuto smiles and melts into the kiss. He has both arms around Akaashi’s waist. Akaashi’s hands are pretty comfortable seated on the taller one’s chest. When they part, Bokuto leans forward and bumps his nose to Akaashi’s.

“Since I shouldn’t drink coffee, you should get one and kiss me so that I can still taste it. We should do this like _every day._ ” He says. Akaashi can feel his breath fanning his lips.

“That’s a...” He closes the barely existent gap between them with yet another kiss. “Great idea.” He completes in complete contentment – save for the nagging reminder of _he’s leaving tomorrow._

 

Somewhere along the way, Akaashi stars smiling at his phone so much that everyone catches up. He smiles at Bokuto’s good morning texts, he grins like an idiot at his good night ones. Bokuto shares his days with him as much as he can through phone. He sends selfies and asks Akaashi to do so too. He sends pictures of things he saw, liked or things that made him think of Akaashi. Akaashi does the same.

 

He takes a selfie of half of his face, as expressionless as a wall and captions it with “I miss you so much too. Can’t you tell?” and sends.

His phone rings after a minute from that text. He doesn’t bother hiding the grin on his face.

“Bokuto-san.” He greets. Bokuto is laughing on the other side of the line. Oh how Akaashi misses hearing that voice without the distance or the slight static of the phone.

“I hate you.” He wheezes. “I was at the library when you sent that. They kicked me out because I couldn’t stop laughing.”

Akaashi giggles. Contrary to popular belief, he does have a mischievous side to him. One that Bokuto unlocked easily. Just like his heart.

“Oh good, I was worried that your life was going smoothly.” He says. They laugh and giggle on the phone enough to create the illisuon that they are side by side.

 

Somewhere along the way, two cats that were gravitating towards each other finally collides.

 

They are at the train station to wave their boyfriends goodbye. Kenma still looks like he always does to an outsider but Akaashi can notice the little differences giving him away. The third year from Nekoma lacks that glint in his eyes and his eyebrows are furrowed ever so slightly. He has one hand curled in Kuroo’s jacket in a death grip.

“Bo,” Kuroo says. “Do you think we can smuggle Kenma into our room?” His eyes don’t even flicker away from the shorter boy even though he’s talking to Bokuto. Bokuto snorts. All four of them are standing close, waiting fort he train. Bokuto and Kuroo came to visit for the weekend so they each only have backpacks as luggage. Kenma and Kuroo are facing each other, Bokuto is... currently draped over Akaashi’s shoulder.

“Smuggle? As if he’s a vase or something.” Bokuto mumbles. 

“You’re just jealous he’d be a prettier vase than you.” Akaashi butts in. Bokuto huffs, Kuroo laughs. Kenma’s lip curl into a smile – that way they know their efforts are paying off.

“Babe, I’d die for you.” Kuroo fondly, but still, suddenly exclaims as he leans down into Kenma’s personal space. He’s probably the only one allowed that close. Kuroo’s statement earns him a smack on the chest.

“Don’t say shit like that!” Kenma scolds, eyes alight. Still, there are traces of laughter in his voice.

Akaashi just huffs and butts his head slowly to Bokuto’s shoulder now that the boy decided that he can, in fact, stand on his own.

“Do something romantic.” He says. Bokuto smirks.

“Anything you want,” He answers with a cheery tone and nuzzles into Akaashi’s hair. He starts walking some steps away, leading Akaashi as well, to have a last moment of privacy and to give that to their friends also.

“I actually do have something to give to you.” He grins and drops the arm he has around Akaashi to dig into his bag. Why he left this to the last moment, Akaashi has an idea. Bokuto is prone to be forgetful. That’s why Akaashi gifted him that planner and sincerely asked him to use it as much as he can. 

Bokuto pulls out a notebook that is too familiar and not quite at the same time. The bracelets he braided to keep himself from fiddling with his fingers and abusing the skin there are displayed proudly on Bokuto’s wrists.

“Is that?” Akaashi starts. The question is just on the tip of his tongue.

“The notebook you made a collage on the cover on your first year in high school? Yeah, it is.” Bokuto says as he puts his backpack down to flip through the notebook one last time.

“You kept it?” Akaashi asks as he tries to peek through. He does remember making the collage on the cover but has no memory of writing anything inside. Bokuto’s eyes light up with determination and pride as he extends the notebook to his boyfriend.

“Of course I kept it Akaashi! I keep everything you give me – well not receipts you hand me to throw away. I throw them away. Anyways, remember when you recommended me to write something?” He stops as he jumps up and down a little where he stands. Akaashi takes the notebook from Bokuto’s smaller hands. He remembers making the collage on a bored afternoon. He remembers how good ripping various pieces from old magazines and newspapers felt – and how surprising but unsettling was it to realize that he has never did such thing before. He remembers aligning the pieces and gluing them down as a newly came together whole..And he remembers asking if Bokuto ever wrote or thought of writing. He remembers saying, “Maybe you should, Bokuto-san. It can help your mind calm down... Plus, I have a gut feeling about this. Try pick up writing.” But he hadn’t bound the notebook with transparent covers.

He nods so that Bokuto can continue.

“Yeah, so, I binded it so your artwork won’t get wrinkled or get scratched or teared off in my bag. And – uh? I tried writing a story? Kind of. For you, of course.” 

Akaashi flips through the notebook as he listens. It is filled with Bokuto’s not that pretty handwriting. It’s hard to write neatly when your brain is bouncing off from idea to idea. There are many different colors and nibs of pens and pencils and whatnot used on the notebook. There are dates in every two pages or so. Akaashi knows it is hard consistency is for Bokuto, just the fact that he tried writing every day or so, just the fact that he didn’t give up on the story even though his poor focus failed him many times – if the trailing off sentences and doodles on the corners of the pages are any indicator – is meaningful enough.

When he looks up, there is a slight blush on Bokuto’s cheeks and he is playing with the bracelets Akaashi gifted him. Akaashi flings himself towards him and with a hand on the back of his neck, maneuvers Bokuto’s head to his chest so that he can _listen_ how happy he is making Akaashi. Since Bokuto is taller, it’s a bit of an awkward position but neither cares as Akaashi kisses the top of his head and his forehead.

“Koutarou,” He says and that is enough for Bokuto to tighten his hold. “This is truly so meaningful, I – thank you.” He feels like both crying and laughing, it’s kind of an drunken feeling he decides. He holds the notebook close to his chest but lets Bokuto rise from his crumpled pose. Instead, he buries his face into Bokuto’s chest this time. “ _I wish I could always be by your side._ ” Akaashi says – no, pleads, to who he doesn’t know either.

Bokuto nuzzles into the crook of Akaashi’s neck, breathes him in before answering.

“It’s okay – you just focus on the entarance exams for now. Plus, you have a team to lead, captain. We’ll have... calmer days in the future.” He takes a step back. Akaashi makes a sound of protest. He spends his time craving for Bokuto’s warmth next to him already, he wants to hug and hold him as long as he can when he has the chance.

“Plus,” Bokuto says as he gazes into Akaashi’s eyes like he sees his everything there. Maybe he does, just like I do, Akaashi smiles at the thought. “If I never left, I wouldn’t know how would it feel to come back.” He whispers as if it’s a secret. Maybe it is. Bokuto finds unusual secrets, unexpected resemblances in the ordinary. That’s why Akaashi asked him to write. “Maybe it’s selfish, but it feels great to have something to wait for, something to return to.”

Akaashi hums. Bokuto visiting is what helps him carry on with his weeks that sometimes feels like seven individual, consecutive infinities.

“I don’t think it’s selfish.” The train arrives with an impatient wind. “It feels great to be something to return to.” Even though he means what he says, he moves zero muscles to let Bokuto go. His presence is magnetic. He is such a big, dynamic part of Akaashi’s life that it feels like he never left every time he returns.

“It looks like I’ll always return to you as long as I’m alive.” Bokuto chuckles as he kisses Akaashi’s knuckles. He draws back and takes his backpack from the ground. Because Bokuto Kouatrou is the only one that can say such big promises with brutal honesty and overwhelming emotion and make it look casual. “Take care, Keiji.” He murmurs before one last kiss.

“I will. You should, too.”

 

Akaashi and Kenma walk back home in a numb silence bounded by similiar aches they’re feeling. Still, Akaashi offers to treat Kenma a slice of apple pie at the same time Kenma makes an offer of treating Akaashi to some onigiri. They giggle until their chests feel a bit lighter. At least they still have each other, just like Kuroo and Bokuto have each other there.

 

Somewhere along the way, skype dates become their new routine. They study silently, stealing glances of the slightly blurry images of the other person that they wish they could just hold right now. There are calls where Akaashi cries, Bokuto calming him with his soft voice. There are calls where Bokuto plays with the cap of the pen he’s holding until it breaks or until Akaashi can talk him out of his distracted, too-fast-paced-that-it’s-almost-hazy thoughts before the pen breaking.

But Bokuto still sends texts consisting of heart emojis and Akaashi still sends links to love songs no one would have thought he’d listen to.

 

Somewhere along the way, time slips away like it always does. Akaashi finds himself laughing until his lungs hurt, sitting around a camp fire with Bokuto, Kuroo and Kenma since the two older boys insisted to take them camping, away from the city for a few days, just the perfect way to relax now that the setters have graduated too.

 

Somewhere along the way, some of Akaashi’s dreams come true. He makes it into University of Tokyo, starts studying psychology. Him and Bokuto doesn’t only share the same university, they share a flat too – one that Akaashi totally adores. It’s filled with memories. Filled with the only one kind of plants that doesn’t make Akaashi sneeze, filled with the notebooks Bokuto keep filling and filling. Filled with the pictures Kenma took of them, filled with the weird stuff Kuroo makes in the university laboratory which he brings to them with sparkling eyes.

Filled with an almost overflowing bookcase and a steadily packing thropy case from all the volleyball they’ve poured their hearts and sweat into. Though it’s mostly filled with Bokuto’s volleyball memories now, given that Akaashi decided to try different clubs now.

Even though Akaashi loves their flat so much, they leave it to meet up with Konoha at a pub to catch up.

 

Their old teammate sits across them in a light blue shirt. His hair is shorter now. After an hour or so he curls his arms on the table and leans forward towards them, mindful of the drinks on top the table.

“Akaashi,” He says and throws Bokuto a look that can’t be good. “Do you want to hear a little story?” He quickly turns his gaze back to Akaashi who now perks up from where he was nestled next to Bokuto.

Maybe it’s the accidental yet fitting wording Konoha choose or maybe it’s how the friendship between him and Bokuto didn’t lose any of its intensity – or teasing – but Akaashi finds himself smiling and nodding.

“So,” Konoha makes a show and waits until Bokuto is glaring. 

“No.” Bokuto says, a half hearted threat at its best. They all know it, the happiness in his voice gives him away. Konoha laughs, he is already enjoying it too much before even telling the story.

“There was this... _certain vice captain_ whose job was simple.” 

“Simple?” Bokuto sputters. Konoha raises a hand that shuts him up effectively.

“Greet the first years, tell them how we carry out practices, don’t intimidate them, ask a bunch of questions. Easy peasy.” Konoha stops and takes a sip of his fancy, iced drink. Akaashi turns his eyes towards his boyfriend in the meantime. Bokuto’s smiling like he’s back at Fukurodani’s gym, a smile that bittersweet can’t describe thoroughly yet any other word falls short on the task completely. 

It’s the knowledge that those days are not ever coming back and they’ve lost what was connecting them to some of the team members for good now. It’s knowing that the laughs they’re sharing now at this table are a combination of ghosts of the laughter they’ve shared back then and new ones which are blooming here and now. It’s the graditude that they _had_ the team, the friendships, the victories, the hard-to-count-how-many practices and countless memories they’ve forged. It’s the feeling deep in their bones, the feeling that they are not the same people they were before. It’s, despite all, the happiness not letting each other go brings. It’s what makes Bokuto’s eyes shine and Konoha’s eyes glossy when they tell each other how much the other have grown.

It’s bittersweet, with a tinge of many other adjectives.

“Anyways,” Konoha laughs. “This idiot of a vice captain kind of pesters this silent first year because he’s panicking.” 

Akaashi arches both his eyebrows in a question. Bokuto was panicking? 

His boyfriend covers his face with his hands and starts snickering.

“Then, this vice captain walks over to me, crashes down on the bench next to me, looking like all of his life and everything he’s ever known turned out to be a lie-” Konoha starts laughing too as Bokuto’s shoulders shake with his growing amusement. Akaashi smiles too at their state.

“And?” He asks.

“And whispers...” Konoha clasps a hand over his forehead and wheezes. “...whispers in a completly defeated tone: ‘Am I gay though?’ ” 

Bokuto laughs louder now and retracts his hands from his face. “I was having difficulties figuring out myself! And you – you laughed and teased me about my crush!” 

Akaashi pinches the bridge of his nose as laughter bubbles up from his throat.

“Jokes on you though,” Bokuto says as he drapes an arm around Akaashi’s shoulders and drags him close. “I ended up with my crush.” He sticks his out to Konoha who laughs more and cooes in reply.

Akaashi Keiji is dating a huge dork. He knew that though. But he never have thought he was Bokuto’s gay awakening.

“Hey, Akaashi,” Bokuto leans in and whispers. “How do you think the story goes on?” He asks. His voice is so smooth with joy and love, Akaashi needs a moment before he can answer.

“Happily. Forever.” Akaashi Keiji mumbles to the space between them. Because they both have firsts, in many areas. After all they are still pretty much blank canvases just trying to get through life. He is happy he gets to share his days with _his_ high school crush too.

 

Somewhere along the way, Akaashi dreams of giving Bokuto a round and meaningful jewelry – one that isn’t a handmade bracelet. Some day, he thinks, some day he’ll do that.

**Author's Note:**

> the videos Kuroo and Bokuto talk about are real! and i don't own any of them! 
> 
> 43 iconic vines in one minute (music video) : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GrS5CMiF42M
> 
> elephant seal rolls down hill: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eQwBAfJXz7Y
> 
> and the way akaashi has kuroo on his contacts p.i.t.a.kuroo-san means pain-in-the-ass-kuroo-san
> 
>  
> 
> this is my first haikyuu work ever, feedback would be greatly appreciated! thank you so much for reading! i'm @ aakaaashi at twitter, come talk to me about volleyball dorks!


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